


Glass Souls

by Godstank



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 19:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2633747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godstank/pseuds/Godstank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>one of the ways I would picture the final battle between Carmilla and the Dean would go down</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Souls

 

Laura watched, frozen in fear, as the confrontation between Carmilla and her mother escalated to a vicious fight. The Dean’s spacious office was the perfect depiction of the kind of damage an indoor space could suffer after a natural disaster. In this case the culprits were Hurricane Carmilla and the mother volcano.

She couldn’t even remember how they go here in the first place. Carmilla had come back from her undersea adventure plus one sword and minus one Jacques Cousteau. Everything after that was a blur.

The office, moments before the Dean’s eruption, was in its usual pristine condition. Right now however, no inanimate object was safe of being sliced, punctured or decapitated multiple times.

The hundreds of books that were neatly stored on the shelves of the bookcase that took up an entire wall now littered the ground, as if the walls had bled them. Antique furniture was well beyond the realm of being able to be repaired. Though, they could probably be salvaged into stakes. The tiny, forgiving part of Laura’s heart missed Danny’s presence in this moment.

Her hazel eyes remained glued on the two hostile figures engrossed in their own bloody version of the tango. Laura was caught in the dilemma of needing to look away but not being able to. Witnessing the woman she had grown to love being battered so harshly seemed barbaric, and yet looking away would feel like a betrayal. There was nothing the human girl could do, except materializing a pair of pom-poms and cheering loudly. Somehow, she didn’t think that would fit the mood.

Trying not to think about how her morbid sense of humour is acting as a coping mechanism, Laura cringed every time a powerful punch connected with Carmilla’s unsuspecting flesh and she would hide her face when a bone would pop out of its socket.

She watched, awestruck, as the vampire simply plopped it right back in with a swift movement and loud snarl directed at her mother. Carmilla then directed a strong right hook at the taller woman’s jaw, with that same arm, simply to add insult to injury-and perhaps a tiny dash of ego boosting.

The Dean answered with a kick that effectively sent Carmilla flying across the room and crashing in the already deserted bookcase, just a few feet away from Laura, whom scurried backwards immediately and almost tripped over the clutter on the floor in the process.

Uncoordinated, graceless and inelegant-she is Laura Hollis.  

She looked down, prepared to send a death glare to the object in question. However, her demeanor changed when hazel eyes caught sight of the previously discarded and somehow forgotten weapon.

 _The blade of Hastur!_ Laura wasn’t sure, in this moment, if it was incredible luck or unfortunate fate that led her to it. A little bit of both, she silently agreed.

Her head snapped up as she heard Carmilla sucking in a painful breath as a sharp knee connected with her gut and just a few seconds later an elbow smashed in the back of her neck, sending the vampire crashing back down on the ground with such force that the wooden floors cracked from the impact.

 _This is it Hollis, it’s time to retire the pom-poms and take up your sword_. Heart and mind steeled, the tiny human picked up the sword. _Okay, wow, that’s heavier than it looks_. Curling both of her hands around the hilt, she squared her shoulders and with a determined huff, she raised the weapon in front of her.

Carmilla’s vision was blurry from the sharp pains wracking her whole body with every breath she took, undoubtedly from broken ribs, but it was the fuzzy picture of Laura’s figure holding a sword that managed to send the vampire into a frantic panic. “L-LAURA, NO!” But the warning did not except alert the Dean of the human’s attempt at an heroic rescue.

Laura didn’t have time to blink once before a crushing weight squeezed the air out of her lungs as the Dean effortlessly gripped her throat and lifted her up in the air. The sword hit the ground with a loud clunk as the human’s hands desperately clawed the vampire’s death grip.

“Laura Hollis. You, little one, have proven yourself to be an aggravating thorn in my side.” A wicked grin spread across her face as the human’s movements became slower and languid, her eyelids growing heavy. “Seducing my daughter against me. How can a puny human hold such power over an eternal creature? Seems I’ve been too soft on her in the last century…” Her eyes darkened and a red hue illuminated her irises as she quickly glanced at the slumped form on the ground, twisted in anguish.

Carmilla attempted to push herself up, yet her body trembled, unable to support her weight. She collapsed back down, a painful squawk dying in her throat as a broken rib poked through tender flesh.

The vampire could only watch as her mother squeezed the pure light out of the only person she took a chance to care for after two centuries of building an impenetrable fortress around her heart. Hopelessness is too inaccurate of a word to explain the feeling that filled her soul.

Then came the overwhelming sense of disgust. Disgust at herself, disgust at her weakness and at her inability to protect those she loves. Is this her curse, her punishment, for having eternal life? Desired by mortals, yet despised by her kind. History sure had a sick way of repeating itself.

No, not again. She wouldn’t-couldn’t let her mother take away her purpose of living once more. Carmilla fears that this time around, she wouldn’t survive the loss and the emptiness that would surely follow the little one’s death.

Tapping into a source of power she didn’t think she had, the vampire picked herself up from the melancholic puddle she had dissolved into. Gritting her teeth and clenching her jaw, she pushed her broken ribs back into, what she hoped, was a stable position where it couldn’t do more internal damage.

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip and her mouth filled with her own blood-the veins on her neck and forehead looked like they would pop at any moment. Though the pain, Carmilla felt, was a simple stepping stone on the road to steadfastness.  

Her legs were shaky, but only for a moment, as an unquenchable fire fuelled every atom in her being. A primitive shout filled the otherwise quiet room as Carmilla charged and tackled her mother, causing her to lose her grip on Laura, whom fell down in a heap, coughing violently as air suddenly entered her constricted lungs.

The two vampires crashed through the wall, emerging into the hallway in a cloud of dust and flying pieces of drywall. Carmilla fell on top, straddling the Dean’s waist firmly. Her vision blurred once more, but pain was not the cause this time.

She hadn’t realized she had been raining down punches on a now pulverized semblance of a head when she felt Laura’s unsure hand on her shoulder, the soft trembling voice calling her back to reality from whatever dark place the vampire had escaped too in her rage.

She looked down at the unrecognizable mess; blood, and other unnamed fleshy bits, dripped down from her knuckles to her fingers. Her chest heaved, but the delicate conditions of her ribs caused the exhales of air to be short and quick.

Her whole body trembled, and Carmilla wished she could have spoken words of her broken heart to the one person who caused it, yet something told her her actions had spoken louder, and more violently, than words ever could have.

Carmilla belt out another scream, this one filled with years of suppressed anguish and despair. The delicate glass bottle they had all been forcefully held in had finally shattered, it’s contents dripping down her soul and seemingly washing it clean for the first time.

Laura gently pulled the sobbing woman away from the decapitated body and into the safe confines of her warm embrace. Her hand guided Carmilla’s head under her chin as she rested her cheek against the dark hair. Her other hand carefully navigated the vampire’s injuries as she rubbed a soothing hand up and down the other woman’s back. “It’s over,” were the words softly murmured and repeated into Carmilla’s hair.

Laura’s voice caught in her throat, and she let herself vulnerable and open, conscious of her own sorrow as well as being able to grieve with Carmilla. So she cried with her, and for her, and the two souls emptied themselves out together, clinging to one another, sharing identical agony.

Once a heart is emptied of past bitterness and crippling anger, it can only be filled with one thing: selfless love. So, two souls joined in a marriage unlike any other, vows of an everlasting bond silently spoken between the thumping rhythm of their hearts in perfect tandem with one another, as an eternity together became their purpose.

History doesn’t always have to repeat itself.


End file.
